


Meet me at the Kissing Gate

by silentlagoon



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Agoraphobia, Fluff, Gen, Hobbit Courting, Mentions of Anxiety, Romance, new relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentlagoon/pseuds/silentlagoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bungo Baggins was an entirely respectable hobbit, a tad reclusive but respectable all the same. Belladonna Took was flighty; never able to stay in one place for too long and certainly not the type for settling down. </p><p>How they ever came to be courting was anyone's guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bungo Baggins was certain he’d never encountered a more rambunctious brood than the Tooks. They were loud, they were crude and there were far too many of them to be considered decent.

As a young boy he had spent an afternoon in the company of Gerontius Took’s sons whilst his parents celebrated their anniversary. His parents had been delighted that the Thain of the Shire had offered his hospitality to their little boy and so happily left Bungo for what everyone assumed would be a fun day for everyone.

Bungo and one of the Tooks’ many sons, Isembard, were of any age so it was supposed that the two of them would enjoy playing together and that future playdates would benefit everybody. Sadly this was not to be. Bungo, being more accustomed to the company of adults found Isembard’s ‘rough and tumble’ form of play a bit too much to deal with whilst Isembard couldn’t fathom why his new playmate didn’t seem to know how to have fun.

After being returned to his parents with tear stained cheeks, scraped knees and a vole hidden in the pocket of his waistcoat (which went unnoticed for a surprisingly long time), Bungo vowed to never go anywhere near the Tooks ever again. His father, worried that his son didn’t seem to have any friends his own age, tried on multiple occasions to convince his son to give Isembard another chance to no avail. Bungo was adamant. No Tooks.

 For many years Bungo evaded all contact with Tooks apart from a brief greeting as they passed one another when out and about; it was only polite and Bungo was nothing if not civil.

 

* * *

 

It was the sort of morning in which a gentlehobbit might wish to leave the comfort of his hobbit hole and take a brisk walk. Bungo was not often disposed of the need to go on a small excursion but the morning was far too enticing for him to justify spending the entire day reading in the garden.

He took some bread and cured ham from the pantry along with a skein of pale ale. His father wouldn’t protest at such a small amount being taken, he was sure. He considered leaving with only those meagre rations but realised that it was close to elevenses as it was and he may not return until after lunch. With this in mind he added some sweet peas, saffron buns, a good wedge of egg and bacon pie and some hard cheese to his provisions. He secured it all in a bundle which he slung over his shoulder.

Yes, it was definitely the day for a walk. It was a warm day but with a soft, cooling breeze. The sort of day that just looks so completely pleasant that everyone has to be outside.

Bungo set off at a leisurely stroll, not really caring where he was going; just happy to be taking the time to enjoy himself. He was stopped briefly by some of his father’s tenants who enquired after him and his mother which was really a veiled attempt to broach the matter of a broken gate. Bungo just smiled and nodded and assured the couple that he would pass on the message to his father.

He took a short break for elevenses beneath the party tree where he was joined by his brother, Longo who demanded a share in his meal. He was a tad loathe to part with the little he had but he wasn’t about to let his brother go hungry.

“You should have taken something from the pantry if you knew you’d be gone for some time.” He chastised, handing over a chunk of soft bread.

Longo just shrugged.

“Are you going to the Tooks’ party tonight?” he asked.

“I didn’t know there was one.”

“Oh yes, quite a large’un by all accounts. Isembard’s Name Day. Mother said I can go if you do.”

“Did she really? Well I haven’t been invited nor do I wish to go so sorry, brother, it won’t be happening.”

Longo groaned and dramatically flopped down so that his head was in Bungo’s lap.

“Please, Bungo!” he whined through a mouthful of bread, “You don’t _need_ and invitation, anyone can go.”

“I don’t think Isembard would want me there. I find him too brash and he finds me too dull. I’m not going.”

“You probably won’t even see him. Please just think about it, Bungo. Please?”

Bungo had never been very good at ignoring his siblings’ demands and so relented.

“Fine. I’ll think on it. No promises though.”

Longo didn’t seem to mind the vagueness of his answer. He cheered and launched himself into the air, swiped the last of the cheese from Bungo’s hand and ran off, chuckling. Bungo sighed and packed the remaining food back into the bundle and resumed his jaunt across the fields.

 

* * *

 

The wheat fields had grown long and golden, rustling softly in the slight breeze. They whispered as Bungo’s fingers glided over their tips; their gentle murmurs were the only sounds that could be heard aside from his footsteps that parted the golden strands.

All of a sudden the peace was destroyed by a head of dark curls leaping up from within the wheat directly beside Bungo.

“Boo!” the little hobbit shrieked, her face rosy, and her grin gap toothed.

It was a silly thing to startle at really but he had been so lost in his own thoughts that the small girl had taken him quite by surprise. More heads appeared from the earth, all hollering and running towards the girl who had begun to sprint across the field. Bungo stood very still and waited patiently for the stampede of hobbits to end. They were mostly girls, he noticed, and a few boys, all around the same age. A couple of hobbits who looked nearer  to his age sped past and he turned to glare at them for acting so childishly and disturbing the peace.

It would have been a terribly good glare had it not been swiftly replaced with a startled grimace when a body collided with his chest and sent him flying backwards.

It took him a moment to realise what had just happened; he lay there, dazed, vaguely registering a warm body on top of him and soft hand on his cheeks. The ringing in his ears and the stars that danced around his vision faded, as did his umbrage at being thrown to the ground when he was perfectly content being vertical. For above him was the most breath-taking hobbit lass he had ever seen in his life.

She had hair the colour of the wheat around them that fell in loose curls over her face; sun kissed skin and sweet pink lips that were merely inches away from his own.

He let out a sharp breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, exhaling as if he’d been punched in the gut. The small frown of concern on the girl’s face melted into relief.

“Oh gracious! I thought I’d killed you. I’m so sorry, I can’t apologise enough. Are you alright?”

“I – I’m fine. I think. I just wasn’t expecting to get tackled, that’s all.”

She smiled warmly at his forgiveness.

“I truly am sorry. I should have been looking where I was going.”

Bungo simply waved his hand as if to say it was nothing, grazing the sleeve of her dress as he did so. It was then that he realised that she was still lying on him. He felt the heat rush to his cheeks and he wriggled slightly, trying to worm his way out from under the girl. His efforts to be clandestine clearly were not as sly as he hoped.

“Oh sorry,” she laughed, rolling off to lie beside him, “Are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit flushed.”

He nodded mutely, hoping that she’d leave and he could move on from this awkward encounter. Instead she extended her hand to him.

“I’m Belladonna.”

He took the offered hand, hers were small and delicate and he was very aware that his own palms were a little damp.

“Bungo, pleased to meet you.”

“Really? After I came at you like a charging bull?”

“I wouldn’t say you’re a bull. Not at all – that is to say … I mean …well –”

Belladonna chuckled as she clambered to her feet and scanned the field, hands on her hips. She huffed in annoyance and returned to the ground.

“So much for friends,” she said, “Not one of them has waited for me.”

“Where were you going?” he enquired, figuring that he may be able to suggest a shortcut that would allow her to catch up.

“Don’t know. We were going for a bit of a run is all.”

“Running just for the sake of it?”

“Well yes. It’s fun.”

Bungo raised his eyebrows in disbelief. In his opinion, running was anything but fun. It was exhausting and uncomfortable. Never fun.

“Yes, well . . . I’m more of a walker myself. Speaking of, I should probably continue with this one.”

He pushed himself off the ground and dusted the scraps of wheat off his waistcoat, trying his best to ignore the dull ache in the back of his head. He cleared his throat and retrieved his bundle.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Belladonna, I hope you find your friends.” He said, tipping his head politely before setting off through the wheat once more.

What an odd encounter, he thought, and sufficiently awkward to boot. Thank the heavens it was done with and he’d never have to that strange, albeit beautiful, hobbit again.

All he heard was a brief rustle before the kerchief around his neck tightened and he found himself flat on his back once more, wheezing for breath.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! I yanked a bit harder than I’d intended.”

Surprisingly strong arms slid beneath his own and began hoisting him to his feet.

“Are you trying to kill me?” he spluttered.

“No, I promise I’m not,” the odd Belladonna said plaintively, “I am sorry, I was just going to ask if I could maybe join you in your walk but now I’ve gone and throttled you so I’ll just leave you be. Sorry.”

Bungo would later guess that one too many knocks to the head lead to what he said next.

“I’d be welcome of the company actually. I have enough food for two if you’d like lunch?”

Belladonna’s answering smile was nothing short of radiant.

“I’d like that very much, thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Bungo knew that he was not considered a sociable hobbit. His mother had often said that he’d been an adult from the moment he was born so it was little wonder that he had minimal patience for the young. He thought that was a rather unfair observation. It wasn't patience that was the issue; it was understanding how to talk to hobbits his own age. He’d never quite managed to make it through a conversation without saying something odd or simply becoming a stammering wreck. He could talk to his elders without any problems. He knew what was expected there, he knew how to be courteous but speaking to anyone else and he found that his tongue was tied in knots.

But he realised that he was an hour into his excursion with Miss Belladonna and not once had he tripped over his words, nor had the conversation lulled at any point. It was possibly the most comfortable and open he had been with anyone outside of his family.

They found a small clearing in a copse of woodland to have their lunch. The daffodils were just beginning to bloom and even in this shade there were some fine examples defiantly reaching for the sunlight that blazed through the covering of leaves above them. Bungo laid out the food on the bundle, inwardly cursing Longo for taking off with his cheese.

“Sorry it’s not much,” he apologised, “I set out with more but I encountered a hungry little brother on my travels.”

“Please, don’t apologise. And I know the way with brothers; I have eight of them they’ll take anything they can get.”

“You have _eight_ brothers?” Bungo marvelled.

“And three sisters.”

Bungo gave a low whistle.

“And I thought I had it bad with four siblings.”

They ate in companionable silence, occasionally passing the skein of ale back and forth.

“Thank you, that was lovely,” Belladonna said once they had finished, “I feel I’ve been an awful inconvenience to you.”

“You really haven’t,” Bungo assured her, “Granted it’s not the most conventional meeting I’ve ever had but I truly have enjoyed your company today.”

“You should come to our party tonight!” she suddenly exclaimed, “Well I say ‘our’ it’s my brother’s party really, it’s his Name Day.”

Bungo stopped in his tracks.

“Oh. I … er … your brother isn’t Isembard Took by any chance?” She nodded, “Ah, I don’t know if that’s f-for the best err…”

Comprehension dawned on Belladonna.

“What did he do to you?”

“He hid a vole in my waistcoat when we were children. Amongst other things. We just didn’t … get on.”

“Oh so you’re Baggins!”

Bungo flinched at the thought that the vole story was something of legend in the Took household.

“Isembard does a lot of stupid things like that. You won’t have to see him, you know, if you don’t want to. There'll be so many people there. Come as my guest, please. Let me make up for almost killing you.”

 _Be brave, Bungo,_ he thought, _it was only childhood nonsense._

“Yes, I’ll come. I’d love to.”

“Wonderful!” Belladonna leapt to her feet and scurried off to a gathering of bright daffodils. She selected one with an orange corona and presented it to Bungo, “Would you wear this in your buttonhole tonight? So I can spot you?”

He promised that he would and together they retraced their steps, parting ways in the market place. Bungo twirled the daffodil between his fingers, marvelling at what a strange and pleasant day it had turned out to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bungo prepares to go to the Tooks' party and we meet the Baggins brood. 
> 
> WARNING: this chapter contains descriptions of anxiety leading to agoraphobia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I never meant for Bungo to have an anxiety problem. It just kind of happened. I didn't realise until part way through my first draft that I'd basically given him my dad's condition. Any comments are more than welcome :)

Bungo found his mother in the study going over the family’s accounts. It was a job Bungo had taken over a few years ago but his mother had an inability to delegate and so would always be taking on work where she had no need to.

“Hello, darling,” she greeted, glancing up from her work, “How was your walk?”

“Very lovely. Very lovely indeed. You’ve missed a two.” He told her pointing to the ledger.

“So I have. You’ll have to check these, darling. I think your father’s been forgetting to write things down again.”

“I’ll see to it tomorrow,” he promised, “Mother, did you really tell Longo he could go to the Tooks’ party if I went?”

“I did. He’s too young to go alone. I’d send him with Belba but I think she’d be far too keen to lose him. You don’t have to go.”

Laura Baggins had been more understanding of her son’s dislike of crowds than her husband was. Though he had never been cruel to Bungo about his . . . issues, she felt that sometimes he could push the lad too far.

“No, I want to go.” Bungo said.

“Really? It’s fine if you don’t want to.”

“Mother, I know I’m not very good with parties and the like but I am trying. I do try. I want to go.”

“Alright,” she conceded, secretly delighted, “I was just making sure.”

She turned back to her accounts, aware that Bungo was hovering over her shoulder, sighing every now and again.

“Yes?” she prompted, knowing full well that he could keep that up for hours.

“I just …I was wondering if I were to wear a daffodil in my buttonhole, which colours should I wear?”

Laura set down her quill and stared at her son.

“I suppose it depends. What shade is the trumpet?”

“Orange.”

“Goodness, that’s bold. But I expect around the Tooks it’ll fit in. What about that lovely green suit of yours?”

Bungo nodded in agreement.

“Why a daffodil, if I may ask?”

“Oh, n –no reason. I should go find Longo, tell him we’re going. Thank you, Ma.”

He placed a small kiss to the top of her head and fled the room. Laura allowed herself a small smile before turning back to the accounts. It was evident her husband had been trying his hand at them but numbers had never really been his forte.

 

A delighted ‘woop’ broke the serene silence of the hobbit hole, swiftly followed by Longo bursting into the study, his arms held aloft in triumph.

“Party!” he hollered.

Laura peered at him over her spectacles.

“Indeed. You’d best go wash then, hadn’t you, young man? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedgerow.”

Given the dust on his trousers and assorted greenery stuck in his curls along with his peevish expression, it was safe to assume that he had indeed encountered a hedgerow at some point that day.

“Pa’s fallen asleep in the garden,” he blurted out, hoping to shift the topic, “Shall I wake him?”

Laura shook her head.

“No it’s alright dear, I’ll do it. You just make sure you look presentable or you’ll be going nowhere.”

She closed the book, clearly her family were determined she was not to finish her work today. Stretching out the kink in her neck, she pushed herself up out of the chair.

 

The flagstones of the pantry were blessedly cold beneath her feet. She took a quick stock of their supplies; she could have sworn that there had been more pie than the slither that remained. It seemed her mice-like children had been nibbling again.

She reached out to grasp an earthenware jug that was filled with the pink lemonade her daughter, Belba had prepared that morning. Making sure to bypass the kitchen for tumblers, she ventured out into the hot garden to rouse her husband from his slumber.

 

She found Mungo sitting on his bench, a straw hat covering his face and a collection of daisies piled in the palm of his hand. Their youngest daughter, Linda, sat before him, her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked on an obnoxiously long daisy chain.

“Where’s Bingo?”

Linda merely pointed to the buddleia behind her. Little Bingo lay fast asleep under the bush, knees tucked up tight to his chest.

“Like father like son.” She chuckled.

Deciding that her youngest was fine where he was for the time being she instead focused her attention to her sleeping husband. She plucked the hat off of his face and he startled awake as the sun hit his eyelids. Linda let out a shriek of protest as she scrambled to save her daisies from being crushed by her father’s closing hand.

“Did I fall asleep?” he asked groggily.

“Yes you did. Lemonade?”

He smiled in answer and held the tumblers steady as poured out the cool, pink drink. She set the jug aside and settled in against Mungo’s side. He slung an arm about her shoulders and took a deep gulp of the lemonade, making a low noise of contentment.

“Bungo’s decided to go to Isemnard’s party.” Laura told him.

“You’re having me on.”

“I’m not. He told me he wants to go.”

“Truly? We are talking about the same Bungo here? The boy who used to cry whenever we even mentioned going beyond the front gate?”

Laura fixed him with a stern glare.

“That was a long time ago. You shouldn’t judge him so harshly, Mungo. It’s hard for him.”

“How is it hard, Laura? Hmm? He’s an able lad in his prime yet some days he won’t even leave the house! I can count his friends on one hand and most of those are relatives.”

Laura squirmed out from under Mungo’s arm.

“He can’t help it. You know he can’t. Don’t you dare act as if it’s his choice when you know full well it’s not.”

Mungo sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes.

“I know, I know. I didn’t mean anything by it. I just worry.”  
  
“We all do. Bungo more than anyone.”

 

 

He had made a huge mistake. This was going to be a disaster. Already the thought of the crowds of people was making his stomach churn.

His walk had been longer than he had planned and though he thoroughly enjoyed it, he was now exhausted and the thought of venturing out again was causing an all too familiar tightness in his chest. He closed his eyes and took a few deep, calming breaths.

“Don’t be stupid. Don’t be stupid.” He whispered. He could do this; he could pretend he was normal for just one evening.

Bungo’s father had often said it was as if he was afraid of the outside world; as though the mere thought of leaving the comfort of the family smial was enough to turn him into a quivering wreck.

Bungo had tried again and again to explain that he wasn’t afraid of going outside, he was just … afraid. Of what, he couldn’t say. Some days he would just wake up and everything seemed hard. His body felt sluggish, he felt as if he couldn’t quite get enough air; that there was a tight band crushing his ribcage and no matter how much he tried to calm himself with deep breaths and logical thoughts, the feeling simply would not dissipate.

He was so much better now than he had been before. Most days were fine, he could manage. He’d been setting himself goals. Reach the front gate, the end of the lane, the market. He was doing alright.

Tonight would be tough though, he knew he was pushing himself. But he had made promises to attend and he was a hobbit of his word. Besides, he’d feel a whole lot worse if he bailed out now and disappointed Longo.  He twirled the stem of the daffodil between his thumb and forefinger, watching the colours blur together.

“Oh Bungo Baggins,” he lamented, “What have you got yourself into?”

 

 

 

There were hobbits from all over the Shire in attendance for Isembard’s Name Day. Proudfoots and Bolgers and Goodchilds and Bracegirdles; it seemed that the Tooks certainly weren’t stingy when it came to handing out invitations.

The sheer quantity of food was staggering. There were tables piled high with savouries and sweets, cakes and quiches and keg after keg of every ale and cider imaginable.

Longo was practically jumping for joy as he took in the sight. Bingo was giggling, clutching his mother’s hand and pointing out everything he could see.

“Mummy! Mummy, look! They’ve got cream cakes and toffee apples. Mummy! Do you see?”

“I see, dearest. I do have eyes.”

Laura was beginning to wonder if this impromptu family outing was the best idea. Upon learning that their three elder siblings were off to a party, Linda and Bingo had kicked up an almighty fuss at the injustice. So after tears and yelling and an inadvertently smashed jug (which caused  more tears and a litany of “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”) from Bingo and Linda’s simple statement of “I’m going”, it was agreed that the entirety of the Baggins family would go to the party.

It might be nice, Laura told herself, a chance for them all to let loose for an evening. But with the way Longo looked about ready to pounce; Bingo’s salivating; the coy smiles Belba was giving to every passing lad and the pallor in Bungo’s face, she was fairly certain she’d be needing eyes in the back of her head.  Only Linda seemed to be the one with the least need to be ‘monitored’. She was gazing in serene wonderment at the paper lanterns hanging in every tree and on every fence.

“Ma, all my friends are over there, can I go with them? Please, please, please?” Longo begged, shaking in excitement.

She glanced at the gaggle of hobbitlings slightly away from them, hissing at Longo to ‘come on’.

“First off, rules. Do not make a nuisance of yourself; if anyone tells you you’re getting underfoot you make yourself scarce. Make sure you check in with us every so often so we know you’re alive and have fun. Alright?”

He gifted her with a wide grin and a brief but tight hug around her middle before running off into the crowd. Belba, meanwhile, made as if to tail off after her own friends but Mungo grabbed hold of her wrist.

“Take Linda with you.” He instructed.

“Ugh. I don’t need a chaperone.” Belba protested.

“Nonetheless,” he turned to Linda, “You keep your eye on her.”

Linda nodded mutely, slotting her hand into her sister’s. She looked up at her solemnly.

“No funny business.”

 

Above the din of hobbits laughing and singing, the voice of Gerontius Took rang out clear.

“Baggins!” Mungo found himself crushed against Gerontius’s barrelled chest in a vice grip, “Good to see you! It’s been quite some time!”

“That it has. You remember my wife, Laura, of course. And my sons, Bungo and Bingo.”

Gerontius smiled broadly, gave Laura a peck to the cheek and shook each of the boys vigorously by the hand.

“Well, well, Bungo Baggins. You’ve grown a fair bit since I saw you last.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’re keeping well?”

“Very well, thank you, sir.”

“Excellent! Well don’t let me keep you. Go! Eat, drink, dance! Mungo, you’ll join me for a pipe later, yes?”

Mungo agreed as Gerontius herded them further into the depths of the party.

 

Bungo could feel a cold sweat begin to break on his forehead and his heart began to race. There were so many people and no sign of an escape. There was nowhere to run, no way out. He felt his father grasp his arm and lean over to murmur in his ear.

“You’re alright. You’re doing fine. I’m proud of you, you know. I know it’s not easy.”

Maybe it was the physical contact that grounded him or the shock of his father’s words, either way Bungo managed to quell his rising panic.

“I-I’m just going to go get a drink.” He said, worming his way through the swarm of hobbits towards the kegs.

The barrels provided Bungo with a bit of breathing room. He poured himself a pale ale and scanned the field for any sign of Belladonna. His stomach gave a little flip whenever he spotted a head of golden curls go by.

“For goodness sake, Bungo,” he mumbled to himself, “Get a hold of yourself.”

He was nearing the end of his half-pint when she appeared. She waved and skipped over to where he stood. Her eyes took in his buttonhole and then the suit it was attached to. She laughed and gestured to her own outfit.

“Look at this! We match.” She said.

Her dress was only a few shades darker than the green of his suit with a gold brocade that matched her hair beautifully.

“What a coincidence. You look lovely.”

Had he not been staring resolutely at his ale as he delivered his compliment, he would have noticed the blush that tinged Belladonna’s cheeks.

“Um… thank you. Er, do you want to go dance?”

“Alright. But I warn you, I’m not very good.”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him across the field to where the musicians were seated where a small gathering of hobbits were jumping and twirling to the jaunty tune.

 

Belladonna’s enthusiasm was infectious. She leapt straight into the dance and Bungo had no time to hesitate. In their attempt to slot into the mix they tripped over each other’s feet which prompted a fit of giggling, rendering them both incapable of continuing. Bungo clutched his aching sides and Belladonna wiped the tears from her eyes as they disentangled themselves from the dancers. Both were quite flushed as they fought to regain their breath.

“Well that went well. Do you want a drink?” Bungo finally managed to ask between gulps of air.

“I think it’s needed. Oh! We should get some scrumpy before it runs out. It’s probably one of the best I’ve ever tasted. Pa had it brought in from Bree.”

Again she grasped his hand and dragged him through the throng. He was finding that he was becoming accustomed to the hold of her soft, small fingers. Usually being stuck in a crowd like this would have him paralysed with fear, but with Belladonna he didn’t have the time to think about all that. All he could concentrate on was the feel of her hand and the way her curls bounced as she strode out in front of him.

 

The scrumpy was very good. Earthy and sweet and _very_ strong.

“This is delicious!” he yelled above the din.

“Pardon?”

“I said: this is delicious!”

Belladonna shook her head and grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him away from the kegs and towards a large marquee that had been erected.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear a word you were saying,” she explained, then realising she’d crumpled his suit, set about trying to flatten it out, “Oh I’m sorry, look what I’ve gone and done.”

Bungo stopped her hand by placing his own atop it.

“It’s fine, really.”

A moment of silence fell between them, their hands resting on Bungo’s chest. Belladonna cleared her throat and slipped her hand away.

“Um … we could… there’s something I want to show you. Just over here. Pa only puts them up for special occasions.”

She beckoned him to follow her around the marquee to where a clearing had been made for a ring of hay bales. In the centre stood two large logs that were burning from the inside out, giving off a gentle yet insistent heat.

“Gosh that’s clever!” Bungo exclaimed, taking a seat on one of the bales.

“Isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get Pa to tell me how it’s done for years but he refuses. Says he likes to keep a bit of mystery about it all.”

“I rather like that notion. It’s more magical, don’t you think?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her scrumpy, gazing at the red furnace that could be glimpsed from the bark that encased it.

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know,” Bungo said, “I’m sure there are far more interesting people about.”

“No. They’re all terribly dull. You are infinitely more interesting.”

Bungo scoffed.

“I assure you I am not. I’m surprised you’ve talked to me for this long. Most folks would have made their excuses by now.”

“Well most folks wouldn’t have taken being tackled and strangled so graciously.”

One of the elder hobbits on the next bale over suddenly leant over and coughed to attract their attention.

“You do realise you’re being watched.” He wheezed through his pipe.

Both Belladonna and Bungo whirled around to find Linda staring at them.

“He is a little bit boring,” she told Belladonna seriously, “But that’s because he’s old.”

“I’m not old!” he protested, “How long have you been there, Linda?”

“A while. Pa wants you.”

“Oh. Right. Well … er… sorry I should go.”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you later maybe?”

Bungo told her he would and made to leave with his sister.

“Oh Bungo, wait!” Belladonna called, seizing his wrist. She stood on tip-toe and placed a fleeting kiss to the apple of his cheek, “I’m really glad you came.”

Bungo nodded, staring a little nonplussed as she disappeared into the marquee. An insistent tug at his jacket brought him back to the present.

“Are you going to marry her?”

“What? I barely know her!”

“But she kissed you.”

“That’s not a marriage contract, Linda. Wait, aren’t you supposed to be watching Belba?” Bungo asked , following his sister’s lead away from the hay bales.

“She knows what’ll happen if she misbehaves.”

That was something he could very well believe. Linda was especially adept at delivering threats. She’d never had to follow through on them but no one was prepared to risk it.

“This is where I leave you,” Linda told him, pointing towards a large plume of smoke under which could be seen many, hairy feet, “He’s in there somewhere.”

“You don’t know what this is about by any chance?”

She gave him a withering look and pointed again to the smoky area as if to say that he was wasting everyone’s time.

“Go find out, lazy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several days after the party, Bungo and Belladonna meet again and there are foot injuries and plenty of second guessing.

The party had been an unmitigated success. People were still talking about it three days later. How wonderful the spread had been, how jolly the music and the fireworks! Most folks had never seen the like. Gerontius had invited one of his oldest friends to showcase his explosive display. A wizard no less it was said. And indeed the fireworks had had a certain magical quality to them.

It was this wizard that Belladonna and her sister, Hildigard, were now following. Most folk were feeling the effects of too much drink the morning after and were dead to the world. So no-one noticed two hobbit lasses tailing the grey wizard as he steered his horse and cart out of the Shire.

They’d been keeping a fair distance between them so as not to be seen. The two girls had spent enough time with Rangers to know how to track. The wheels of the cart left indentations in the soft earth that made it incredibly easy to take the same route and so the sisters were able to journey at a sedate pace without falling too far behind.

“Do you think Isembard’s woken up yet?” Hildigard asked on the second day. When they had last seen their brother he had been sprawled out beneath a table, snoring loudly into the grass, wet with the dew of early morning.

“I don’t know. Maybe the wizard put a spell on him and he’s cursed to sleep for a hundred years!”

“And only true love’s kiss can wake him!” Hildigard giggled.

“Well he’ll be asleep forever then. No lass would ever go near him with the way he drools.”

They both laughed raucously.

“Speaking of kisses,” Hildigard began, “I hear you were getting awfully cosy with a certain lad by the marquee.”

“I … he’s just a … someone I know.”

“Are you blushing?” she asked, incredulously, “You are! Bella, you’re actually blushing!”

“Shut up! I think he’s nice, alright? Just leave it, Hildi.”

Hildi threw her hands up in resignation, still looking highly amused. They continued in silence for a while, playing a game to see who could kick fallen sticks the farthest only stopping when Bella aimed a particularly strong kick but fell afoul of a hidden root.

Hildigard couldn’t hold back her laughter as she watched he sister hop about, clutching her bruised toe.

“Stop it!” Bella chided, trying not to laugh herself, “It’s not funny, Hildi!”

“On the contrary, Miss Belladonna, it’s actually fairly amusing.” Came a deep, resonant voice from behind them.

The girls turned to see Gandalf the Grey sat atop his cart staring down at them.

“Good morning!” they chorused, smiling brightly, the very picture of innocence.

“Hmmm, indeed. And what, may I ask are two hobbit lasses doing so far from their hobbit holes?”

“We were ….” Hildigard started looking over to Bella for assistance.

“Just going for a stroll.” She provided.

“A stroll? It seems you’ve strolled quite a way. Perhaps you should turn back? I shan’t be following the road for very much longer and you may lose yourselves.”

It was evident from his pointed stare that he was very aware he had been followed. The sisters agreed that they would turn back. Their hastily gathered supplies were beginning to run low as it was. They had enough to sustain them back to the Shire but as their venture had been rather speedily planned it was deemed wise to end it now.

 

As the light began to dim, at the end of their day’s walk, they set up camp in a shallow ditch just off the road. Bella covered them both with the single blanket they had brought with them and shifted closer to Hildigard for warmth.

“So are you ever going to tell me about this mystery man of yours?” Hildi prompted, prodding her sister in the ribs.

“Oh for – fine. His name’s Bungo Baggins.”

“Vole Baggins?”

“The very same.”

“You’re in love with Vole Baggins?”

“I’m not in love with him, Hildi!”

“Well it’s certainly something if just mentioning him has you of all people blushing. Come on, Bella, you can tell me. I won’t say anything to anyone else. I promise.”

Bella sighed in resignation and huddled further into the warmth of the blanket.

“I don’t know. It’s stupid. I barely know him but I just … like him. He’s easy to talk to and he seems sweet. He’s kind. When I met him I literally ran into him and then I accidentally throttled him with his own neckerchief and he was nothing but polite about it.”

“He’s a Baggins. They’re all polite.”

“But after that? How could anyone be that _nice_ after nearly knocking their brains out? And then he even shared his lunch with me.”

Hildi gave a low whistle.

“He must really like you.”

“No. No, I just don’t think he knew how to get rid of me without being rude.”

“Well fine, if that’s what you think. Are you going to see him again?” Bella shrugged and remained obstinately silent, “Right, well … I don’t know about you but I’m knackered. Night, Bella.”

“Goodnight, Hildi,” she replied, wrapping her arms around her sister’s waist and kissing her hair, “Thanks for listening.”

 

It turned out that the party was extremely beneficial for Bungo in several ways. Not only did he spend a panic free evening in the company of a truly delightful hobbit but had also come away with a job offer. It seems that during their ‘catch-up’ smoke Mungo had mentioned Bungo’s prowess for numbers, leading Gerontius to lament at the shoddy condition of his own books. Of course Mungo had readily offered up his son’s skills in a gesture of goodwill. Not knowing how to say no to Gerontius’s enthusiasm or his insistence to give Bungo a little something for his troubles, he found himself agreeing to the venture.

The Tooks’ accounts were far worse than anything he’d ever seen. Scrawled notes and ink blotches were making his task quite the challenge. All the information he needed was there but decoding the strange notations meant that this wasn’t going to be finished anytime soon.

“Are you sure I can’t get you some tea?” Adamanta Took asked him for the fifth time since he had arrived that morning.

“I’m sure, thank you. Oh! I’m sorry but do you know what that says? I can’t seem to make it out.”

He passed her a scrap of parchment that had been torn off from another at some point. It looked fairly important, he just couldn’t read it.

“Oh well that’s a disaster on paper, isn’t it? I think it’s ‘annual’?”

“Hmm, yes that makes sense. Thank you.”

“No, thank you! I’m afraid not one of us can make head nor tail of what to do with all these numbers. We really appreciate this. You’re saving us a lot of trouble.”

“MA!” came a shout from outside, “Ma, they’re home!”

Adamanta handed back the paper and hastily made her excuses. Bungo heard the slam of the front door followed by raised voices.

“Irresponsible! How long did you think you’d be gone, hmm? One blanket between the two of you? What were you thinking?”

“We were fine, ma!” Bungo heard a girl say, accompanied by footsteps marching through the smial.

A moment later two blurs of skirts and dirt hurried past herded by Adamanta, cursing them as they went. The smaller of the two doubled back and poked her head into the study, looking momentarily confused then grinning widely.

“Hello.” She said.

“H-hello.”

“Stop being a pest!” Adamanta chastised, pinching the girl’s ear and pulling her away.

 

The steaming water in the copper tub threatened to slosh over the side as Hildi slid in opposite her sister. Belladonna handed over a flannel so that Hildi could begin to scrub some of the dirt off her body.

“You’ll never guess who’s downstairs.”

“Who?”

“Bungo Baggins.”

“Very funny, Hildi. Don’t tease, it’s not fair.” Bella scolded, flicking water at Hildi’s face.

“Hey! I’m telling the truth, he’s in Pa’s study.”

Belladonna sank further into the bath, arms wrapping around her chest, as if she thought he was witness to her nakedness. Hildi chuckled and aimed a soft kick to Bella’s shin.

“Idiot. It’s not like he can see you!”

“I know! I just – what’s he doing here?”

Hildi shrugged.

“Go and ask him.”

“I can’t just march up to him and ask him why he’s in my house.”

“Sure you can. It’s a reasonable question. Stop being a chicken, Bella. You get out of this tub, put on your glad rags and go woo your Baggins.”

 

She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She’d never had any issue striking up conversation with people before. Mainly because she didn’t care what people thought of her; but with Bungo Baggins she found herself caring. She cared about how her hair looked, whether or not she’d remembered to brush the hair on her feet, worrying if her voice was unappealing, whether what she said was of any interest at all?

It was utterly ridiculous. She mentally shook herself and readjusted her grip on the tray she was holding. From her ill-concealed spot by the door frame she could see Bungo’s back as he bent over her father’s desk, poring over papers, quill scratching over a long roll of parchment that trailed on the floor.

Bella shifted the tray to rest on her hip and with her free hand she rapped on the frame, making Bungo look up from his work.

“Hello,” he greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. I thought you might care for some lunch. I'm afraid around here if you don’t just take what you need, you don’t get fed.”

She cleared a space on the floor by pushing strewn papers aside with her foot. She placed the tray down in the clearing she had made and gracefully sat cross legged beside it. She patted the space next to her.

“Indoor picnic? I know it’s not as picturesque as the woods.”

Bungo set aside his quill and joined her on the floor.

“Oh I don’t know; cosy smial, surrounded by books? Sounds pretty good to me.”

He graciously accepted a ham sandwich and tumbler of elderflower cordial.

“So I hear you’re our new accountant. How’re you finding it?”

“It’s fine. Everything’s there, just needs putting in order.”

“You must have the patience of a saint. If you need any help, just let me know.”

Bungo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Actually,” he confided, lowering his voice, “I can’t make out the writing in a lot of the accounts.”

Bella laughed through her mouthful of sandwich.

“That’s not surprising. Pa’s hand is dismal. I'm used to it so I could help out if you like?”

“I wouldn't want to inconvenience you …”

“Not at all! It might be fun. Besides, I'm banned from going any further than Bree for the time being so it might be a good way to occupy my time.”

“Ah, is that what the commotion was about earlier?”

Bella nodded.

“Hildi and I followed the wizard after the party. Admittedly we were woefully under prepared. Ma doesn't mind if we just take off, just as long as we've suitably planned.”

Bungo shook his head in disbelief, placing his empty plate back on the tray. The thought of setting foot outside the Shire was inconceivable to him, dizzying even.

“Well thank you for lunch . . .I should press on though.”

“Oh of course!” Bella scurried to pick up the tray and moved aside to let Bungo get back to the desk, “I’ll see you later.”

She made to leave but stopped herself before she could lose her nerve.

“Listen, Bungo. Do you want to …. I mean you can say no, but, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go out tomorrow afternoon? With me. For a jaunt?”

“Oh … I … err.” He mumbled.

“It’s fine. Forget I said anything.” She said, hastily leaving the room and scurrying to the kitchen.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she chanted under her breath. She threw the dishes into the sink with careless abandon, causing a dish to crack, “Wonderful. That’s just …”

“Excuse me, Miss Belladonna?”

If ever asked, Bella would fervently deny that she yelped, but even so, the cracked dish slipped from her hands and shattered at her feet, a shard flew across her toe, slicing a deep gash as it went. Crimson blood welled up instantly but before she could even register what was happening, she felt herself being lifted up and away from the carnage of smashed crockery.

Her arms instinctively wrapped around the neck of her saviour. She glanced up to see Bungo’s concerned face merely inches from her own. She stared pointedly at his shoulder, reluctant to make eye contact.

He sat her on a wicker chair and immediately knelt to inspect the damage.

“Are you alright? Where do you keep the bandages?”

“I'm fine. It’s nothing.” She muttered.

He looked her dead in the eye, making her squirm under his gaze.

“Bandages.”

“In the drawer left of the sink.” She conceded, there was actually a fair bit of blood.

Bungo side stepped the mosaic of broken plate to rummage about in the drawer for the bandages. Once he had found them he reached for a jug of fresh water that was sitting on the side.

“Bowls?” he asked.

“Cupboard above your head.”

He returned to where Bella was sat and poured some of the water into the bowl. He pulled out his handkerchief, soaked it and then wrung it out. Bella realised what he intended to do and pulled her feet up onto the chair.

“No, you mustn’t! You’ll never get blood stains out of that.”

“It’s just a handkerchief, I have plenty. Now give me your foot.”

He gently cradled her foot in his hand and began washing away the blood that was beginning to dry in the thatch of soft hair around the wound.

“You know,” he began, “You didn’t really give me a chance to answer your question.”

“It’s fine. I was only – ”

“I’d like to go,” he interjected before she could second guess him again, “If the offer’s still there?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s still there. Does noon suit you?”

“Noon’s fine,” Bungo discarded his handkerchief in the now pink water and set about bandaging the toe, “There, all done.”

“Thank you. That’s . . . you’re very sweet.”

“No … no… well I wasn’t going to let you bleed all over the floor. Speaking of, can’t be leaving that mess there.”

He picked up the bowl of dirtied water and made towards the chaos the plate had caused. Belladonna hopped off the chair, being careful not to put too much pressure on her bandaged toe.

“Leave it. I can manage. Besides, it’s my doing.”

“If you’re sure?”

Bella nodded, ushering him out of the kitchen.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow at noon?”

“I look forward to it. Oh, where should I meet you?”

“The dairy farm, meet me by the kissing gate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is kind of rushed. I'm not happy with it but meh.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this just after Christmas but life happened. Not sure how many chapters there will be and I can guarantee that updates will be sporadic due to my intense workload. I welcome any feedback so feel free to leave me a comment :)


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